


Bedroom Hymns

by FreakshowImprov, thesilvergoddess



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, and theres some kinky stuff, theres probably gonna be some fluff, theres some gay stuff and some yiffy stuff, theres some stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakshowImprov/pseuds/FreakshowImprov, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilvergoddess/pseuds/thesilvergoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a lot of smutfics in a collection. Ben (FreakshowImprov) asked me two things:<br/>1. Credit him with these good ocs<br/>2. Assure that this is not canon to his fic <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7858150/chapters/17943574"> The Light Forsaken </a> (you should check it out anyway)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedroom Hymns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreakshowImprov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakshowImprov/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Light Forsaken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858150) by [FreakshowImprov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakshowImprov/pseuds/FreakshowImprov). 



> Here's some weird yiffing for Mardynn and Islorus

It’s always a messy thing. 

Always. 

If ever there was a time where this  _ mess _ of a thing wasn’t anything less than an utter catastrophe, it was a miracle. Also, unheard of and completely impossible.

* * *

 

Both of them would argue about how it came to be somewhat of a tradition, but both would agree on the fact that the first time was both completely unprecedented and absolutely a stunner once everything was said and done. 

The old Pig and Whistle wasn’t much more than a cozy hole in the wall for Mardynn, but it was part of her home. She would go, sometimes just to sit and breathe, sometimes to eat, drink, and be merry. All things considered, it was a local hangout for her and her crew. 

They all lived somewhat together, though Ehldrenor was much more likely to go off on his own way, telling the rest to behave and, “For the Light’s sake, please just keep it  _ mostly _ legal.”

He talked a big game, but he could get as rowdy as the rest of them. Just not as often.

Mardynn didn’t find herself to be particularly rowdy. Compared to Anareila and Salissi, she was a darling. A star pupil of the Light. Even Islorus could be considered a shining citizen compared to the Chaotic Duo, who often went off to paint the town red and terrorize small children, despite Salissi’s professed love for the little ones. Anareila was the  _ worst _ enabler.

Mardynn smiled and leaned back, cherishing the creak of the wooden stool that groaned with her shifting weight. The spiced air filled her nose and the spiced ale warmed her belly. She didn’t overdo her drinking. Mostly. She knew she’d catch serious hell from Anareila if she got more than a little buzzed. Besides, she wasn’t exactly sure that the ale was particularly potent. 

She must have cut quite the figure, sitting there by herself.  She was nineteen, barely old enough for the bar to legally serve her anything stronger than watered down beer, and where most people her age would be laughing and carousing with friends, she was content to enjoy her own little corner.  The lighting in the tavern was dim and homey, making her shoulder length orange hair seem to glow.  The distant firelight danced across her freckles, and her wide blue eyes twinkled.  Her robe this evening was simple and grey, hardly the ostentatious garments she wore for special occasions, or the armor-enchanted robes she reserved for dangerous situations.  A long wooden staff, nearly five feet tall and therefore as big as her, leaned against a wall nearby, the beautifully cut sapphire head sparkling.  

She didn’t make a habit out of running from her problems, but her little journal of meditations wasn’t exactly cutting it when it came down to the memories of the Broken Shore. A nice hot meal that had nothing to do with Salissi’s cooking would be satisfying and comforting - not that Salissi was a bad cook, but she couldn’t get the spice down that Mardynn most preferred.  She had a  _ weird  _ sense of taste.

She took another pull from her ale, frowning a little at the empty bottle. She took out her journal - a journal she kept specifically for her doodles - and began sketching out some lines. Jim, this evening’s bartender, came around to her table, small and nestled in the back corner, and asked if he could get her anything else. That she’d barely touched her food, and it most certainly wasn’t like her. 

Mardynn smiled. “Ah, well, I’m just getting out of the house for a while. Salissi and Anareila were driving me nuts.”

Jim smiled knowingly and winked. “Those gals know what a good time is.”

Mardynn laughed and gave her most dramatic groan. “Tell me about it.” She paused. “I’ll have another ale, if you don’t mind.”

He nodded briskly and sauntered off in his generally enthusiastic way. And why not? Getting Mardynn tipsy would probably make her buy more. And more. 

She wasn’t drinking to get drunk - no, not this time. She was just having a nice adult beverage because she’d had a long day of plodding along behind Ehldrenor and listening to him. Most of the time, he was correct about whatever he’d decided to lecture about, but  _ Light _ , he could be so  _ dry. _

She took a bite of her almost forgotten food and sketched a few more lines. The doodle was quickly turning into Anareila’s naked back and shoulders. There was the base of a sketch for her face - the faintest lines of a circle. She flushed at her realization, the lazy strokes almost directing themselves. They were all a decent functioning group, and in her more strict days at the church, she would have never imagined such a relationship would blossom between them all. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. Jim plopped down her ale on the small round table and smiled. 

“You’re quite the artist, you know.” He nodded. “I’d be willing to pay some prime coin to have you add to our walls.” He gestured to the warm oil paintings and charcoal sketches on parchment lining the tavern’s interior walls, broken only by spaces where the blue-ish runes funneled in cool air. 

Mardynn couldn’t stop herself from giggling, a bubble of pride and embarrassment bursting and feathering her cheeks a rosy pink that was absolutely enhanced by the alcohol. “I’m just a doodler, not much of an artist, but your flattery gets you an extra silver.”

He bowed his head in a jovial laugh but pushed her hand away. “Nah, I mean it. If you ever decide to put up anything, I’ll pay  _ you _ .”

They chatted a few more minutes before the soft, airy chimes alerted them to a new customer, whose footfalls were only barely padded by the copious rugs of various makes and origins. 

Islorus sidled up beside Mardynn in the opposite chair, put down a few silvers a little forcefully, and asked for a mostly rare steak and a few bottles of ale. 

Jim, who was mostly fine with any patron as long as their coin was good, gave Mardynn a furtive look. She couldn’t blame him for his nervousness. Islorus did that to almost everyone. Worgen made people nervous.  Death Knights made people nervous.  Worgen Death Knights made people  _ very  _ nervous. She shot him a smile, though, and he went off. 

“Listen, kid, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said in that rough, strangely modulated voice he had. “We-”

Mardynn gave another dramatic groan simply to cut him off from his train of thought. “Listen, old man, I just want to have a few ales, draw my drawings, and then go home. Talk to me about it tomorrow, if you have to, but I’m tired of turning my favorite tavern into a place of business.” She put on her most authoritative and professional tone for the words “Place of Business.”

Islorus sat back, his own stool creaking in protest a little more loudly than Mardynn’s had. There were no other patrons in the immediate vicinity, but she looked around to see what an uproar they’d already caused. Mardynn wasn’t quite sure, but Islorus looked entirely smug. 

“If I promise to keep the really important bits to myself, can I at least sit and eat? I already ordered at the bar.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved her curried meat into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and retorted, “If you can behave, I won’t send you away with it in a doggy bag.”

Islorus tilted back his head with a snort-laugh. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. A dog joke? Really?”

She smiled closed lipped while she chewed. The food was just  _ divine _ . Sometimes, not today, but sometimes it would be so hot that it made her nose run and her eyes sting. It was just so  _ satisfying _ .

Islorus tapped the table next to the bottle of ale she was now polishing off and with which she washed down her food. “How many of these have you had, kid? Am I gonna have to drag you back home over my shoulder?”

“You don’t have to drag me home. This is only my second.”

Islorus made a chuffing sound that was as familiar and comforting to Mardynn as the tavern itself. If she really got too soused, she’d just take a hit to the wallet and rent a room upstairs for the night. Jim was a kind guy and would probably give her a cut-rate, since she so rarely overdid her drinking. To the perpetual problem people, he was a lot less forgiving. 

Jim brought three bottles of ale and Islorus’s steak. Islorus gave him a grin that could only have been classified as doggy and chuffed again. He pushed the bottle over to Mardynn. “Then tonight we drink for celebration, right?”

She carefully replaced her graphite stick in her pack, dusted off her fingers on her robe, and closed her notebook. “Celebration of what?”

Islorus looked down at his steak and tore off an unsettlingly large hunk. Mardynn had gotten mostly accustomed to his ravenous appetite and his wolfish, oversized bites. With a full maw, a trickle of blood barely visible on his midnight black fur, he said, “Celebration of company and a fucking night off.”

She took one of his bottles and clinked it against his own. She rarely had more than one ale, and the second had made her feel a little more than a little buzzed, but she could still feel her extremities. So… she thought one more couldn’t hurt. Besides, turning down a gift from Islorus would hurt his feelings, as much as he claimed that he didn’t have any to hurt. 

The two sat quietly for only a minute or two before they started back talking.  Complaining, mostly. 

“What got you out of the house?”

“Salissi and Anareila. They’re so loud and my ears are so sensitive.  Not to mention…” He sniffed the air demonstratively, then shook his head.  “Why are you out?”

Mardynn grinned. “Salissi and Anareila.”

Islorus grunted in assent. “They’re ridiculous.”

Mardynn barked a laugh that was way too loud. “Oh,  _ they _ are? What about you and Salissi? You tear the house down every time! There’s a broken lamp or table, or let’s not forget the time that you broke the bed! Light…  _ They’re _ bad?” She laughed again. She could feel her voice getting too loud, thanks to the lack of inhibitions; featuring alcohol. Maybe she should stop. 

Islorus eyed at the ale bottle Mardynn held, its dark glass shining and only allowing the brightest of lights to show the liquid level in the bottle. The flush on Mardynn’s face, to her dismay, would not abate any more than the prickling sweat on the small of her back. 

“Maybe you’ve had enough.” 

He reached for the bottle, but Mardynn pulled away with a defiant tongue sticking out. “I’m an adult, I do what I want.”

His gleaming eyes looked down at her.  _ Amusement? _ She wondered. He withdrew his hand, though, and chugged his own, slurping down the other two and slamming another few gold coins on the table. Jim, a little more hesitantly, approached the table as Islorus finished off his steak with little to no grace. Islorus’s eating habits made onlookers very uncomfortable, and that intrigued Mardynn. At first he’d seemed so rough and rugged, all that time ago, but now that she knew him, he was just a showoff. A tragic worgen with a tragic backstory - and a completely valuable ally. He was harmless if you were on the right side of the line.

_ And where was that line? _

“What can I get you?”

“Got anything stronger than these honeysuckles?”

Jim frowned in distaste along with Mardynn. Jim was a master microbrewer, but his drinks were not the fancy of all. He departed, pocketing the gold with a huff, and brought back two large glasses of some dark brown liquid. It smelled stronger than anything Mardynn had had before. 

“Dwarven made. Strongest stuff I’ve got.” He paused and leaned against the creaking wooden table. “One condition, though.”

Islorus tilted his head back. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

There was a little sparkle in Jim’s eye - the wily thing. “I require room rental with this stuff.  Last time I served this without that, someone got wasted and tried to kick off a riot.”

Mardynn rummaged through her coinpurse before Islorus could protest and put down a few gold coins. She knew she couldn’t walk home like she was, and she surely wasn’t getting Islorus to carry her in like a wasted drunkard. Jim wrinkled his nose, but Mardynn tapped the coins. Islorus was the one to groan next and matched Mardynn’s amount. 

“That covers one room,” Jim said to Islorus. Mardynn was almost sure that he would never say that to her. 

Islorus growled low and impatiently. “Then one room it’ll be.  I didn't bring my fucking rich people coinpurse.”

Jim blinked but retreated with a concerned look toward Mardynn, who shrugged.

She wasn’t exactly concerned with him. She was just glad that there was a cooling rune very near her spot, which is exactly why she chose that little area, but now it dried the sweat on her neck and spine from too much to drink. 

She wasn’t going to let Islorus win this one. She picked up the mug, clinked it against Islorus’s, and took a sip that she immediately regretted. This wasn’t some quaint, sweet and spicy drink made from honey. This was… Light, who knew what this was?

It burned her throat and made her eyes water like the best of the curried meats at the Pig and Whistle, and it tasted terrible. The subtle fuzziness in her head spread to her limbs and fingers almost instantly. She showed a great sign of weakness in that moment and coughed. And coughed. 

Islorus just laughed and sipped at his own glass, his glowing blue eyes never leaving Mardynn’s for a moment. There was a low growl when he exhaled and a glimmer in his eye, but she just took that for beginning to feel some of the booze. 

She didn’t drink often, but she knew right then she was more than a little drunk. 

She took another drink, thinking,  _ To hell with it, I’m here and I might as well.  What's the worst that could happen? _

“Mardynn, why are you humoring me?” The question almost sounded rhetorical but was genuine enough to still draw her attention. She started giggling. Humoring him.  _ As if. _

“I’m not doin’ nothin’ for you.” She giggled at the sound of her own voice. It was slow. Her words ran together. And Light, was she sweaty. “This is aaall about me.”

The glittering in those eyes didn’t stop, but he looked even more amused now, his doggish face crinkling into a chuffing smile. She had the potent urge to ask him who was a good boy. She decided, even through her drunken haze, that was a bad idea.

He leaned forward, and Mardynn’s heart skittered uneasily. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him that close to her, all things they’d been through aside. He was still so… unpredictable.  She’d seen those teeth do horrible things. But he wouldn’t hurt her, right?

He seemed to sense her unease and backed away slightly. “You’ve basically declared a drinking war against me just for fun, then.” He laughed his weird coughing, barking laugh. It was endearing. “You’re awfully sweaty, and you’re breathing a little hard. Maybe you should stop.” 

He reached out again and put his large hand on the mug, which Mardynn snatched away, said, “Hey look,” and started guzzling.

“Light, kid, you’re gonna die.” He said it with a laugh, though, and that quelled the unease in Mardynn’s stomach. She hadn’t heard him laugh much.  Ever. Maybe he just had to be really drunk.

She squinted at him.

It was definitely the booze. 

He smelled nice, Mardynn noticed, and she pulled her chair around closer to him. She pushed his drink clumsily into his hand. “Drink up, buttercup.”  She refused to have all the fun here.

He did without much more encouragement, and Mardynn found herself absolutely transfixed by the large worgen. She laughed this time. She couldn’t figure out why, but something about his guzzling and weird lapping made her laugh. He wasn't drinking like a human, but he wasn't quite drinking like a wolf, either.  It was somewhere in the middle, and that was for some reason  _ hilarious.   _ She poked his cheek with a, “Boop,” and began giggling again.

Islorus sighed and gave the impression of rolling his eyes. It was hard to tell since they were consistently the same color throughout, but he did a good job. “You’re toasted, kid.”

He pushed himself back unsteadily, and Mardynn couldn’t stop herself and the warm fuzzy feeling in her belly. “Was that a sluuuur?” She said it in the most off key, sing song voice she had. Apparently, that was loud enough to draw attention from the one other patron that had come in as well as Jim, who pointed at the stairs in the opposite back corner. “Islorus is druuunk.” Mardynn only vaguely noticed, as Islorus hauled her up by the scruff of her neck, that the patronage tonight was unordinarily low. Maybe because it was a weeknight and well past a reasonable person’s bedtime.

She hadn’t been hauled around by him before. Anareila, sure. She let Anareila do whatever she wanted with her, but Islorus?  There was something else about him that the soft curves of Anareila nor the sure confidence that Salissi had. Both of them were rugged and wonderful lovers, but they definitely weren’t so… Mardynn couldn’t help a giggle when she tripped over one stair, and Islorus’s unyielding hands caught her arm. He was just so  _ furry _ .

Some alcohol addled part of her brain started operating her tongue. “Hey, can I pet you? You look so soft.” Tears started coming to her eyes, stinging her already burning tearducts. “Light, you just look so fluffy. I-”

Islorus’s heavy breathing came in her ear, much closer than she expected. Her spatial awareness was all but gone. “You better stop while you’re ahead, Mardynn.”

She laughed, that gruff tone in his voice wasn’t even remotely threatening. Even if he was  _ trying _ to be. Islorus pulled her around to the door where their room was and held her steady under a great arm. He was warm, and she was already too sweaty. She made some groan of too hot protest, but he unlocked the door and ushered her in. 

Mardynn didn’t really take much notice of the room, just on how Islorus was plodding along, tottering a bit here and there. Some rational part of her wondered how much of this she was going to remember. The rest of her didn’t care. 

When had she sat down on the bed?

There was something stirring. She found her eyes completely locked onto Islorus’s back, still clad in way too many clothes. She was sitting on the bed, trying desperately to put her hair up without a ribbon, when Islorus walked over and sat next to her. 

“I think I’m kinda tipsy.” He laughed his wheezing laugh. Mardynn felt burning alcoholic butterflies in her stomach. “Never had anything like that Dwarven shit.” He wobbled.  “Stuff doesn't touch me easy anymore.”

“I know I’m a lot drunk,” she nodded sagely. 

“No kiddin’, squirt.”

There was an awkward silence that made them both uneasy, but that slowly burning fire left over from that Dwarven crap spread into a blaze. Neither of them moved.  Islorus opened his mouth to say something, but before anything could come out, Mardynn had shoved him down with surprising strength and started pulling clumsily at his rough canvas tunic. She was burning, and damn if she wouldn’t make him burn the same way. 

This wasn’t anything like Anareila or even Salissi. 

Her hunger - her thirst - pushed her hard, tearing away the shyness that was usually what Anareila found most endearing. Islorus just looked up slightly bewildered at the tiny, squirming thing now on his torso. It didn’t take him but a few seconds to start pulling away, despite the strange flush on his undead cheeks. 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you doing?”

Mardynn laughed her drunken laugh, between her thighs aching for want. “If this goes right, you.” She heard the farmland banjos coming out of her mouth left and right. Her accent, long diminished by years spent in the church, was back in full swing. 

Islorus didn’t protest, he didn’t even move for a long moment, but then, his large, rough hands began pulling at her robes. Mardynn felt tiny under his grasp, but she didn’t complain. It was a completely different feel from Anareila’s hands or even Salissi’s.  Islorus towered over her, and his hands dwarfed her. A small sound escaped her throat when he pulled her body closer atop his. 

He didn’t seem to be protesting this turn of events. 

Mardynn felt those butterflies burning, and they all seemed to migrate to her belly button and southward for the winter. Islorus, still mostly clothed, grunted as Mardynn pulled her uncovered self across his breeches.  Of all the days to go without underwear…. There was certainly  _ something _ there, and Mardynn felt her lust add to the blush the alcohol had semi-permanently painted her cheeks. She could almost hear Anareila teasing her about her freckles standing out, but Islorus was much quieter. 

He  _ did _ more than he  _ said _ . 

He quite literally clawed at her, the back clasp of her robe snapping where the strain on the small button had just been too great. His nails dug into her exposed shoulder flesh, and she cried out with surprise. The way his nails bit into her flesh was exhilarating. She could already feel herself winding up too tight just from pressing herself against him, feeling him along every part of her sensitive flesh, but he pushed her back - not in a movement to get away, just to prolong this enjoyment. It made her sigh.

Her small noises seemed to entice Islorus, his jerky shoves and pulls against her waist waxing and waning with what could only be prolonging the inevitable. The alcohol made things happen faster, but it didn’t detract from the potency of the  _ feeling _ . And feel she did. She used her own cleanly short nails to dig into his chest and pull at his trousers with ravenous growls coming from the both of them. 

His growls rattled deep in his chest and sent waves of sheer pleasure coursing through Mardynn, but he seemed to be aware of the effect he had on her and would intentionally moderate his growls. Mardynn, herself, had no such inhibitions, all of them stolen away downstairs - draining away like she’d drained every drop of those infernal beverages. 

The bed groaned beneath them, and Islorus had apparently had enough teasing. He shoved her off to the side, which elicited a long, heavy moan from Mardynn’s lips. She wanted him to be rougher. He’d been holding back, and she knew it. She pawed after him, unable to stop her own whines, but the air in her throat stuck there when he pulled off those canvas things holding him back. His ass, even in Mardynn’s diminished, blurry vision, was like it had been sculpted just to torment her. It wasn’t even remotely like the rest of him. It just looked like a dark, well toned ass. Her next question got answered before she could think it. The front of him was just the same as a normal guy. Horrifyingly large, maybe, but as normal as he could get considering his size. And damn was he proportional. She tried to reach out and grab it, but her hand eye coordination wasn't exactly top notch.  She missed, pawing his thigh.

She wanted to giggle, but a moan intermixed and rendered all teasing futile. She was small, but she wasn’t afraid of him. Anareila once bought her a gift for her birthday that was a (only slightly) scaled down dildo modeled after a tauren. It was double ended. It was terrifying. They used it. That would make anyone else look manageable. 

Islorus didn’t crawl back onto the sheets, however, and stared down at himself in disbelief for just a moment, as if unsure where _ that _ had come from, before looking back at Mardynn. She crawled over to him, the neckline of the robe, no longer held together by the button at her back, falling down over her modest little breasts.

He apparently liked what he saw, from the way his large head tilted back with a groan. “You’re killing me. That’s straight out of the middle pages.”

Mardynn laughed a breathy laugh against his fur and sloppily kissed along the ridge of his hipbone. “They don’t have those in the church library where I come from.”  She pressed her cheek against his length, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Islorus chuffed his laugh, and his whole body tensed with the gesture. 

Mardynn licked her lips, completely enamored with his sheer size. She wanted to know how it felt. She wanted to know if he was warm or if his undead flesh would simply be as cool as the rest of him. She opened her saliva slicked mouth, only a hair’s breadth away from him, but he pushed her forehead away. She might have thought he’d been reluctant.

“If I’m going to have you, Mardynn,” he snarled, “I’m going to  _ have _ you.” 

His large hands pulled her up from under her arms, as if she were but a kitten that he were picking up, turned her, and shoved her down onto the bed, her face squished against the refreshingly cool sheets. Her breathing was little more than gasps and moans intertwined with pleas. Her hands gripped the linens hard enough for her knuckles to pop, the anticipation of feeling him greater than her actual want for just a moment longer than she thought he would allow, but then she felt it. 

Him.

It was slow. Painfully slow. He grabbed her waist in a clumsy move and pulled her against him. He didn’t push forward, and he restrained Mardynn from pushing backward. Her gasps turned even more shallow.  He was more than she planned for, so much  _ more,  _ and she found herself completely lost for a moment - suspended in time and space. She felt her own hand reach down to touch herself into spasming once, but Islorus pulled her hand away, pinning it to the bed and bringing his chest to press against the bareness of her back. 

So little of her robes actually covered any of her body, both ends of the garment meeting around her waist, but their touch as well as his brought a sense of overwhelming pleasure to Mardynn’s senses. She wanted to be touched everywhere, but her hands were pinned against the mattress. Islorus growled against her ear, his teeth scraping her flesh gently. 

“Islorus, please.” She only heard herself say it, but Islorus responded with a thrust that sent stars whirling into her vision, her body at a loss of anything to do except whimper when that utter painfully beautiful fullness left her. She felt her own dampness against her thighs, which stoked the fires even more. 

She tried to move her hand to douse some of the hungry burning against her skin, but Islorus held her fast. He did not push into her again, just lingered far enough to be there, to exert some pressure against her to tease her, but he was not  _ in _ her. 

His voice was rough, growling, and hungry as she felt. “Tell me what you want, Mardynn.”

She cried out as he pulled away. She could feel his presence so close, but he touched her nowhere that she wanted. She could feel herself clenching around nothing, desperately wanting something to hold onto and set free her tightly wound screw. “You. I want you,” She huffed between soft gasps and moans. He licked along her spine, his tongue long and rough. She shivered. 

He nuzzled her back thoughtfully. “That’s not gonna cut it.”

“Fuck me,” she whispered, cut off by a whine.

“What’s that now?” He pushed against her, touching her but not  _ entering  _ her, and she could only whine. “Use your words.”

What she meant to be a regulated response was a wildly loud cry for him. His name. A string of swears that she wasn’t sure even went together. 

He growled something that might have been a laugh, and he obliged. 

And he obliged.

Aaaand he obliged. 

Each pass against her felt like it would burst the bubble growing so tight within her. Syllables and swears flowed out of her mouth unbidden, and her mind began to blank. The hunger had completely taken over, enhancing each amount of pressure exerted on her, the strong hands against her own small ones, and the harsh breathing of Islorus. 

How long did it go on?  Part of her was desperate to wring every last second she could out of the beautiful sensation, and part of her - the rational part, which had been all but fucked out of existence - knew that it didn't matter.  All that mattered was that she was  _ here,  _ and he was  _ here _ , and he was in her and atop her and thrusting against her and it felt so  _ right. _

After five seconds and ten years, she heard herself, a high pitched, tinny voice coming from her throat. “Please. Now. Please.”

Islorus groaned and pushed faster than he had even previously before. “Do it.”

And Mardynn screamed - loudly at first, then silently and stronger. Those black stars in her vision turned white and her jaw creaked with strain as her mouth opened, a thousand colors unseen by the human eye coloring her vision. Her body thrashed against his. He pushed against her in barely controlled jerks and shudders, the friction of their bodies barely even there despite Mardynn’s flails. Each pump was accompanied by a sound like a growl, but higher, something animalistic and uncontrolled.  Did he feel it the way she did?  She hoped so.  They were too tightly interlocked. The pleasurable shock rolled through her again, forcing herself even tighter around Islorus, who swore roughly in her ear. She could feel him inside her, warm despite her concerns. Warm and thick and - Her eyes widened as he began to throb desperately, and Sse felt a spreading warmth over her as she forced herself against him again and again, the large beating waves turning smaller and quieter. 

She gasped and fell mostly limp on the bed, something warm running down the inside of her thigh as Islorus pulled away slightly, and she cried out in a needy moan upon feeling the emptiness left behind on his departure. 

He laughed his chuffing laugh in her ear and pushed her down onto the bed, ass still largely uncovered. “You still alive, squirt?”

Mardynn nodded in a hazy nod. 

He paused, lumbering in beside her. She turned her head to him, her eyes immediately drawn down. How had he gotten back to  _ that _ so quickly?

“Down for doubles? This time I want to see your face.”

Mardynn smiled but her eyes were already closing. She found herself drifting on a wave of pleasant emotion, her limbs fuzzy, that spot between her legs aching beautifully.  She yawned, her whole body stretching, catlike, before falling limp once again.

“Fair enough. I’m fucking beat. I don’t smoke, but if I did, it would be now.” He sighed in Mardynn’s ear. “Sleep. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

After that morning, after they'd sobered up; it was three days before either of them had the courage to speak to the other again.

 


End file.
